by Evie Nichole
I stood and watched Josh get on his bike, pull his black helmet on, and then disappear into the distance. As he did, I felt several things all at once. I felt like somehow I had betrayed Daniel; that feeling something for another man, no matter how fleeting, was like abandoning him. The fact that Josh was a biker made that betrayal even more profound. Bikers had killed my Daniel, and nearly killed me, and yet there I was fantasizing about one. About being held by him, about kissing him.
Looking down at the piece of paper with Josh’s number on it, I knew two things: I could never forgive those men for taking Daniel away from me and that I was going to call Josh the very next day.
I put the piece of paper carefully into my pocket, and as I did so I felt something else there. Pulling it out, I now had two things in my hand: Josh’s number and the bike key Daniel had hidden. As I walked along the canal, the sun out, I felt dazed once more; why had Daniel hidden that key?
Chapter 6
I raced down the street, revving hard. My bike roared beneath me, but I felt weak to my stomach. My heart thumped in my chest. I couldn’t believe that I’d seen that beautiful face once more. Now that face had a name: Maxine. And she was even more beautiful than I remembered. Fate had thrown me a curveball of the highest order. There I was, trying to figure out whether I’d ever go back to Drake and the Rip Bay Hornets – trying to decide if I was wasting my life or not – and then something like this happens.
I had to think. Jesus, I’d given her my number... Why had I done that!? She seemed so nice, that’s why. Her face has haunted you for two years, Josh, and now it’s come back, like a ghost through a darkened doorway; only not hideous, but stunning and terrifying all at once.
It was a cruel coincidence, and now I know why; why all of this doubt, all of this had started – it was Maxine. She was the reason. Everything she was represented where my life was before the crash, and where my perspective had ran to since. It had all changed, all of it. I’d just been running - or was that, cruising? - ever since then, just waiting, it seemed, for something to shock me out of a rut.
Thinking of the number, part of me wished that she wouldn’t call soon, that she would never call. And yet, another part of me wished that she would. I had never felt this way about her, the memory of her was more of pain than attraction, but now having met her in the flesh I knew there was more. I could feel a pull, something like gravity hurtling us together, and I just hoped that it wouldn’t end in a collision.
I needed to get my head straight.
That’s when I saw the sign. It gave me an out, to head for the highway and leave that place behind forever. I could keep riding, just like my old man. Keep going and never look back.
Yeah, just like your old man. Keep riding, Josh, leave your troubles behind. Leave your responsibilities behind. Don’t worry about anyone else, just think of yourself. What do you owe this woman anyway? That’s right, nothin’. It was all a mistake, just one big mistake. These things happen. Nothin’ to do with you. Just keep riding. Just like your old man...
I needed to change, something needed to change. Seeing Maxine had been enough to shake me from my path. I had no idea where I was heading, but it wasn’t out of the city. I imagined my dad riding through there, his tracks on the road stretching off to anywhere but here.
I would not follow them. I had a responsibility to that woman, to make sure at least that she was okay. I at least owed her that after what I’d done, didn’t I?
My head was like a rush hour traffic jam, and it was time to get some rest. I turned around from the sign and drove back towards a little cheap hotel I’d seen a few streets previous. As I did so, another biker passed me by, going in the opposite direction, taking the exit to the highway.
Yeah, keep running, Dad, I thought to myself, and parked outside of the Hotel Nouveau.
It wasn’t the best hotel in the world, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. The lady, Estelle, who ran the place, seemed nice enough. In her 70s and still going strong. I took a room for the night which consisted of a bed, a tiny flat screen TV, a desk, and an old armchair which had seen better days – just like me.
I was tired. I’d been riding for hours before I’d come off my bike, and then had the pleasure (or was it bad luck?) to meet Maxine. It was time for some sleep, but even my dreams were filled with Maxine and that night. I dreamed about the rain lashing down. The sound of it rattling off of my helmet. I remembered how proud I felt. This is it, Josh. You’re one of Drake’s Night Riders. You’ve made it, kid. Look at the hand you were dealt, now you’ve made it. That’s something. Yeah, that was something. There was a screech, red brake lights in the spray of the rain. A loud bang. I felt my heart racing. Then, broken glass everywhere, a man dead, and the confused beauty of Maxine looking up at me, her world undone.
I stared down at her, but in the dream this time she said something. "Why, Josh? Why did you do this to us? Why?"
I woke up in a cold sweat, alone and unloved in that tiny hotel room. The world now closed in. Outside, rain pelted the ground. The summer had been populated by sun and rain in equal measure, but this storm felt different. It felt like a reminder of the pain I’d been a part of; would I ever hear the rain again and not think of that night?
Doctors would have called it Post Traumatic Stress, but it wasn’t a question of medical intervention, the only word which mattered was guilt, and that was the truth of it. My guilt couldn’t be healed by a doctor or therapist, it couldn’t be numbed by alcohol – I’d tried that many times and failed – no, it certainly couldn’t be washed away by the rain. I began to suspect that I would always carry it with me, like an unwelcome marriage from which there could be no separation or divorce.
I lay there for what seemed like hours, listening to the rain. Sweat dripped from my body, the physical remnant of my nightmare, and as I listened to each drop of water outside, I could hear only one name through it: Maxine... Maxine...
The following day, I got up and went to buy some food. I had come to a decision. Three days. I would give it three days. If Maxine phoned in that time, I would answer, I would meet her; but I knew that I would not, could not, tell her who I was. That I had seen her before. That I was there that night, no doubt a night which had scarred her for life. I needed to know she was okay, that she had got on with her life, that we hadn’t killed two people that night on the road.
As I walked to a nearby store, my phone rang. I looked down at the screen and my stomach turned. It wasn’t Maxine, it was Drake. At first I thought of dismissing it, but no, Drake wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t accept being ignored. Once you were in the Hornets, especially once you were part of his Night Riders, if Drake phoned you best pick up... Or else.
"Hello, Josh,” the voice said on the other end of the line.
"Hey, Drake. What’s up?" I tried to keep things as light as possible. With everything else running around my mind, I wanted to avoid anything which could muddy the waters, and Drake was more than capable of doing just that.
"Josh, son, we need you back at the Rip Bay. We’ve got a job that needs taking care of."
"When?" My heart sank.
"Tomorrow. Where are you?"
"In a little town called Harrows," I lied.
"Jesus, how the fuck did you end up all the way up there?" He sounded pretty pissed off, but he was keeping it under wraps.
"Been riding straight. It’ll take me at least three days to get back down." I lied again.
"Fuck! That ain’t good enough, Josh!"
"Well, it’ll have to be, you did say I could take two weeks away from the Hornets..." Pointing out he’d let me go was not a good move.
Drake’s voice became quieter, but that just added an even more sinister aspect to it. "Make no mistake, boy, you’re never away from the Hornets. You’ll be with us until the day you die, understand?"
"Yeah, I understand..." I wished I didn’t, but I knew. You never left the crew. Especially when you knew the things I knew. "Look, three day
s is the best I can do, Drake. My bike’s front wheel gave up, waiting for a replacement." Another fine lie.
There was silence. "Okay, Josh, but be back here as soon as you get it fixed. Three days. We need to talk about things..."
He hung up. What did he need to talk about? I didn’t know exactly, but I suspected it was to do with the way I’d been acting lately. I had been accepted into his inner circle, but had been unable to hide my disdain for it since that night – the night Daniel Sturgeon died.
Could I just head off into the sunset and never cross paths with the Hornets again? No, probably not. They rode up and down and along and through the country. There wasn’t a piece of tarmac or stretch of road which the wheels of the Hornets hadn’t touched. If I wanted to keep riding for the rest of my life, and I did, I’d have to do it with the Hornets. They’d come looking for me, and I was pretty sure they’d find me.
The phone rang again in my hand. I looked down at the caller ID, expecting it to be Drake deciding he didn’t like the delay, probably angry about the whole thing and now demanding that I get back to Rip Bay as quickly as possible.
But it wasn’t Drake. The truth is, I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t recognize the number.
If I’d been nervous when Drake had phoned, I was now even more nervous.
"Hello?" I said. Then there was silence for a moment.
Finally a voice spoke. "Josh?"
It was her, my heart thumped with excitement, at the thought of that beautiful face on the other end of the line, but at the same time my stomach was filled with dread. A horrible combination I’d never experienced before.
"Hey..." That was all I could muster.
"It’s Maxine."
"I know, how could I forget a voice like that?" Jesus, I was flirting with her.
She laughed, then became more reserved again. "I... I..."
"You want to take me up on that offer of a few drinks?" I asked, realizing how difficult this all seemed for her.
"Yeah... Something like that..." She giggled.
I felt excitement rushing through my body. Why did she have such an effect on me? Was it that her face had been etched into my mind? No, it was more than that. She’d came to me in nightmares of that night, but after meeting her yesterday, speaking with her, seeing that cute little dimple she got on her chin when she laughed, how much her eyes sparkled in the summer sun; something had changed, I was falling, fast.
"Well, I’m the out of towner. Where’s good?" I asked.
"How about The Orange Peel?"
"Sounds... Quaint..." I said.
She laughed again, and again I felt excited.
"No, it’s not exactly a biker’s bar, but it’s a relaxed kind of place, it’s on 5th." There was a silence.
I could feel her waiting in it. Waiting for me to answer. Part of me thought, Ride for the hills. Don’t look back, Josh. Leave her behind, you don’t owe her anything!
But the decision had already been made. I agreed to go, we talked a little more, and then we set the time for 8PM. That was it, a date. I was going on a date with Daniel Sturgeon’s widow, ex-fiance... I didn’t even know how to put the whole thing into words. I was riding on, all right, straight into uncharted territory. I was off the map, here there be monsters.
Two phone calls in a row, and now things were much more complicated. Drake was obviously nervous about me leaving the Hornets, and had another job for me to do, and there I was looking to heal some of the wounds from a previous one.
I always thought my life would be simple. Me, the road, nothing between us but my trusted bike. I put love into that bike, restored her, kept her going, and she’d carried me around the country, straight into a Hornet’s nest. Yet she’d never failed me. It wasn’t her fault where I went, that one was on me. Like a trusted steed, she’d make sure I would get to wherever I ended up going. The only trouble was: I had no idea where that was this time around.
Life was proving more complex by the minute, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse. The only comfort was knowing that I had a date with Maxine; a beautiful, smart, funny woman. Could I try to forget how I’d first seen her? Could I push aside those memories?
Probably not.
I had to think about what was most important. For my own sanity I needed to not get attached. I needed to know just one thing: was she okay. Maybe that would give me a reprieve from the guilt gnawing at my nerves, the guilt which sent strange, frightening dreams to me at night, of Maxine and her husband rushing along happy in their lives only to be mangled in a car crash of our making.
Chapter 7
I hung up the phone. What had I done? I was going on a date with Josh... An actual date. I was part thrilled, part terrified. Since the day before, I had thought about him. His strong physique, his kind yet deep eyes, his laugh.
I was acting like a teenager again. I loved it.
And yet, each time I tried to enjoy the nervousness of going on a first date, that unpromised potential where two people get to know each other, Daniel filtered into my head. I’d think about him disapproving, angry that I’d chosen to go on a date with a biker of all things. I also thought about that dream. The one where Daniel had been in the corner of the room, a frightening, cold, and vengeful version of the man I had loved. It was as if he knew that I was going to meet someone, warning me off.
No, that wasn’t Daniel at all. He was a kind soul. He wasn’t like that. He’d want me to move on. It was just a bad dream.
I started getting myself ready at 3PM. The date wasn’t until 8PM, but if I started to get ready early and stretch it out until I had to leave, then I’d be able to keep my mind off of the nerves. I stared in my dresser mirror getting ready, doing my hair, putting on my lipstick. I suddenly realized that it had been three years since I’d worn makeup. My appearance had always been important to me, but without thinking about it, I’d fallen into a rut. I did the bare minimum each morning before work.
But this was different. I was dressing to impress. I was putting on my best makeup to impress. The last time I had done that... The night had ended tragically. I hoped this one would end on a better note.
I laughed.
I actually laughed at a joke about the night Daniel died. I felt terrible for trivializing it, but I remembered an old friend who was a firefighter telling me that the only way they could get through the terrible accidents they saw every day in their jobs was to joke about it. It wasn’t to demean the dead, or their families; no, it was to simply get through it. Seeing something so terrible, the only way forward was to set it aside as something that had happened, and move on.
In truth though, that night wasn’t just about moving on. As I left the apartment, I made sure I had everything I needed. Most importantly of all, I had the bike key in my handbag. It seemed silly not to take the opportunity to ask Josh about it. He was a biker himself, perhaps he could shed some light on it and help put me on the right track to find out why Daniel had it in the first place.
When I got to The Orange Peel, I almost giggled out loud, realizing that it really wasn’t a biker’s bar. It was... Cozy. The type of place you would go on a first date, a little candlelit bubble for two people to sit in a booth and get to know each other. Perhaps Josh would like it to a degree, I imagined that as a biker he’d enjoy some of the rock music they’d play occasionally between the jazz. It was classic rock, the Stones, Beatles, The Doors; hopefully that would be one thing he’d enjoy.
I walked in through the door, and saw that the place was nearly empty. Looking around, there were a few couples sporadically seated, but not much going on. I preferred quieter places, maybe Josh would like somewhere busier?
I decided to stop worrying about my date’s preferences and sat in a booth in a corner of the room. Shortly thereafter, a waiter came over and brought me a glass of red wine. I was nervous, so I needed the help which a glass would give me. Take the edge off, Dutch courage and all that.
Looking at my watch I saw that it was
two minutes to eight. When I looked up, there he was, dressed in his denims and a shirt. It wasn’t exactly formal wear, his brown boots looked like they’d seen a million miles themselves, but I didn’t care. He seemed to be trying at least, and to be honest there was something about him dressed like that. It was more rugged than I was used to, and that was okay by me. I needed something different in my life. There was something exciting about him, and it definitely made me feel like a teenager on a first date. All flutters and hoping for a kiss at the end of the night.
"Hey, Maxine," he said, smiling. That was the first time I noticed his gleaming white teeth. Say what you want about bikers, but Josh had looked after himself. His smile could charm the best.
"Hi, Josh." I stood up.
He kissed me on the cheek, and then sat in the booth. The feeling of his lips on my face made me almost quiver. I hadn’t let a man do that since...
"Good evening, sir. Can I get you a drink?" a waiter asked, standing next to us.
"Sure. I’ll have a beer."
"What kind?" the waiter asked.
"Hit me with your best," Josh said, tapping his hands on the table between us.
The waiter walked off to take a few more orders before going back to the bar.
"Don’t you have a favorite beer?" I asked.
"If it’s wet and it’s beer, I’ll drink it."
He was so different.
"Besides, it doesn’t hurt to try something new."
He looked at me. He was flirting, and I knew it. I blushed, and he quickly changed the subject.
"So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Maxine. What do you do for a job?" asked Josh.
Here it came. The usual date small talk. I hated that, but knew it was always necessary. "I work for a small fashion house called Audrey Shelby."
"Ah, I’ve heard of it."
"Really?"
"No, not really."
We both laughed.
